


sacrilegious satisfaction

by persephoneggsy



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body Hair, Bottom Rhys, Come Eating, Come Inflation, Come as Lube, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Fauns & Satyrs, M/M, Marathon Sex, No Refractory Period, Nymphs & Dryads, Riding, Rimming, Satyr!Jack, Size Kink, Top Jack, Unrealistic Sex, if we're being honest here lmao, nymph!Rhys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:35:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22010110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephoneggsy/pseuds/persephoneggsy
Summary: When Rhys had heard rumor of a satyr lurking nearby the river, it was to the surprise of no one who knew him that the young nymph ventured out to find it.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 318





	sacrilegious satisfaction

**Author's Note:**

> this is mostly my own head's fault for coming up with wood nymph!Rhys, but the rhack discord enabled me further by suggesting satyr!Jack so 
> 
> here's to you, rhack hive. ya horny freaks (<3)

* * *

When Rhys had heard rumor of a satyr lurking nearby the river, it was to the surprise of no one who knew him that the young nymph ventured out to find it.

He’d been warned against seeking out such creatures many a time by many a peer, not least among them his own best friends, Vaughn and Yvette. Satyrs were boorish, dimwitted beings, they all said, who thought with their cocks and not much else.

That, however, was precisely was intrigued Rhys so much.

Sex with his own kind was… satisfying, in its own way, but also dull after a while. There was nothing exciting in the intercourse, as most nymphs found what they liked and stuck to it for the rest of their unnaturally long lives. Rhys himself was considered unusual for “exploring”, and many of his fellow nymphs were turned off by his adventurous nature in bed.

Humans, likewise, were unappealing. While they liked to try new things as Rhys did, they had laughably low stamina, and most of the time a human-nymph tryst never lasted more than an hour. Pitiful, by nymph standards.

Satyrs, however… While the goat-legged beasts were indeed rumored to be on the brutish side, they were also among the most prolific in terms of sexual prowess. A fully mature satyr could fuck for days on end - a week and a half, if the stories were to be believed - and they never left their partners wanting.

And, perhaps most importantly to Rhys, they were supposed to be _very_ well endowed. He’d seen a depiction of a satyr on temple wall once, one of Dionysus’s. The satyr’s cock was half the size of its _arm,_ and that alone was enough to stir Rhys’s interest - and arousal - spurring him to his current quest, to have a satyr bed him.

Vaughn had protested wildly against the idea; Rhys knew his oldest friend had only his best interests at heart, but he was determined. Yvette at least seemed to understand, and allowed Rhys to leave their comfortable little clearing with little more than a sigh and a fond shake of her head.

The river wasn’t far from their clearing, but the satyr’s den was supposedly further downstream than Rhys had ever gone in his life. Still, he was not deterred; after a few days of travel, he happened upon a large cave just beside the river, and already he could smell the strong scent of spiced wine and honey - a clear sign that he’d come to the right place.

Rhys shifted on his feet just outside the mouth of the cave. There would be no point in turning back now, he reasoned with himself. Worst case scenario, the satyr would try to harm him for intruding on its territory, but Rhys was fast and could likely outrun any danger. Best case scenario… well. Rhys hoped he wouldn’t be returning for a few days.

A week and a half, if he was lucky.

With a determined nod, Rhys stepped past the threshold of the cave. After walking several feet in the forbidding darkness, he saw the glow of a well-built fire, signaling that he’d arrived at the end of the satyr’s den. The space was decorated surprisingly well, with a small table with a chair to one side, a bed made of comfortable-looking furs and blankets towards the back wall, and a truly impressive collection of wine jugs on the other side. 

This close, Rhys was already growing lightheaded from the wine’s smell - satyrs, as associates of Dionysus, were notorious alcoholics, and their wine was known to _kill_ lesser creatures, such as humans. Rhys had never tried a sip himself, but he’d heard nymphs could handle the brew better than most. He couldn’t say he wasn’t curious…

He stepped quietly around the fire, taking note of the gold trinkets littered here and there, as well as the abundance of the color yellow. The satyr seemed to have a preference for the shade. It made Rhys supremely pleased that he’d worn his pale yellow cloth; perhaps that would help entice the creature to him.

He reached the wine and cautiously reached out - just for a better sniff, mind you - only, as his fingers brushed against the clay jug, a deep, growling voice made him jolt.

“Who the hell are you?”

Rhys turned with great speed, his wide eyes landing on a figure illuminated by the fire. While at first he appeared human, a quick glance downwards revealed two black goat hooves, and just a hint of the hairy legs connected to them. Unfortunately, the rest of the man - or rather, satyr - was covered in a goldenrod-hued cloak, so Rhys refocused his attention on his face.

The satyr was… remarkably handsome. A strong, chiseled jaw, tanned skin, and surprisingly clean-shaven. His eyes were a striking green-and-blue, reminding Rhys of his own blue-and-brown, though the satyr also sported square pupils typical of his kin. His hair was a thick, rich brunet, interrupted by a rather fetching grey streak on his left side. Great curved horns stuck out from either side of his forehead, one of them cut shorter than the other - the result of a battle, perhaps?

But what caught Rhys’s eye the most was the large, jagged scar cutting across the satyrs’ visage, an upside down ‘v’ covering most of his face, yet not detracting from his handsomeness in the slightest.

More than all of that, though, the satyr looked annoyed.

“I don’t tolerate thieves,” he growled, throwing a sack he’d been carrying to the ground as he took a step forward. Rhys took an instinctive step back.

“I-I…” The nymph hastily cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you… I-I’m not here to steal...”

The satyr narrowed his eyes… Then let them drop, taking Rhys in fully. Something in his expression shifted, going from hostile to curious in just a few seconds.

“A nymph, hm? Haven’t seen one of your kind in a long while…” he took another step forwards, but this time, Rhys stood his ground. In fact, he preened a bit, as the satyr obviously took the time to let his eyes roam over Rhys’s form.

He’d made himself look as appealing as possible before he left the clearing, and it appeared to be paying off. His short yellow tunic cut off high on his thighs, leaving his long, creamy legs bare for the ogling. The garment also slung across his torso, revealing his left pec and a pert, pink nipple as a tease. His markings, deep blue and stained all over the left side of his chest and his arm, were stark and inviting. Pink flowers were strewn in his hair courtesy of Yvette, and his right arm, made of willow wood, was as elegant as ever, bark twisting up and ending neatly at his shoulder.

Rhys stood a bit straighter as the satyr took another step, now merely a foot away from him. He could just barely smell the satyr’s musk past the scent of the wine; it was a heady, wonderful scent - _powerful,_ in a word _._ As the satyr stepped yet closer, now almost chest-to-chest with the nymph, Rhys took an involuntary breath, shuddering at the strong smells assaulting his nose.

The satyr smirked. “Aren’t you a gorgeous little thing?”

Rhys swallowed, but puffed out his chest in pride. “So I’ve been told.”

The creature let out a short laugh, reaching up with his arm. His biceps were thick and strong, and covered in hair - though not any more so than a human’s would be. His fingers brushed against the petals in Rhys’s hair.

“And just what are you doing in my den, little flower?”

Rhys tilted his chin up to meet the satyr’s gaze. “I heard a rumor you were out here and wanted to investigate. I’ve never seen a satyr before.” He fluttered his eyelashes, for effect, and was pleased to see the satyr’s gaze darken with lust.

“Is that right? What’s your name, little one?”

“Rhys. What about you?”

“I’m Jack,” the satyr grinned. “Now, what could a sweet little nymph like you possibly want to do with a big, bad satyr like me? If you just wanted a peek, you could’ve hid in the bushes outside.”

Rhys licked his lips. “I wanted to see if the rumors were true… About satyrs and their, ah… size.”

Jack quirked an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Aren’t you honest? Well, who am I to deny you?”

Without further preamble, Jack shrugged the golden cloak from his shoulders, letting it roll off his body and hit the den’s floor. Rhys’s gaze shot hungrily to what was revealed, and _oh,_ it was glorious.

Jack was broad and muscular, with coarse dark hairs covering his chest and stomach. His legs were typical of satyr-kind; strong and arched backwards, covered with dark brown hair and ending in the black goat hooves he’d spotted earlier. 

But between those legs was the very thing Rhys had been hoping to see, and it did not disappoint.

Jack’s cock was _massive._ It hung heavy and straight down, reaching past his knees, ending with a blunt tip already beading with a thick bead of yellowish precum. It looked impossibly girthy as well - the nymph doubted he could make his fingers meet if his hand encircled it.

Rhys let out a small whimper, and Jack chuckled again, taking his massive cock with one hand and giving it a long, hard stroke. It reacted instantaneously, twitching as it hardened. Rhys could only watch, mesmerized, as Jack stroked himself to full hardness, his own body growing hot as the sounds of Jack’s unrestrained grunts filled the cave. 

“I hope you weren’t just planning on seeing and leaving, little flower,” Jack said, his tone rough with arousal. “I’ve never fucked a nymph before. Wanna see if the rumors of their _stamina_ is true…”

Rhys smiled, giddy, and quickly shed his own clothes. Jack’s murmured, “oh _gods,_ yes,” as Rhys’s lithe body was revealed to him bolstered his ego. He stepped towards Jack, who let his cock rest heavy against Rhys’s torso. The satyr’s dick easily dwarfed his own, and that served only to make Rhys hotter. He rutted against the hot, thick cock pressed against him a few times, watching the yellow-tinted precum dribble down from the head and onto his skin.

“Someone’s eager,” said Jack, who reached for Rhys’s waist. His large hands made it possible for him to nearly completely encircle the nymph’s body, and Rhys shivered at their rough texture. “Most nymphs run at the sight of me. You must be some kind of freak.”

Rhys moaned, uncaring of Jack’s words by that point. The head of Jack’s cock was mere inches from his mouth, and so he bent his head down and stuck out his tongue, letting it delve into the slit, lapping up the precum. Both he and Jack shared a groan at that. The salty-bitter flavor of the satyr burst on his tastebuds, and he was desperate for more of it. 

Rhys laid both his hands on Jack’s cock, pumping him slowly but firmly, as his tongue flicked and delved into the slit, teasing yet more precum out of the satyr. Jack’s grip on his waist was tight and possessive.

“Oh, you little… Fuck, you love that, don’t you? Tasting my cock… Dirty fucking nymph…”

Rhys shuddered again. Suddenly, he let go of Jack and dropped to his knees before him, letting his hands settle in the thick hair of Jack’s legs before the satyr could even register was he was planning.

“What the - _oh, shit…”_ Jack tilted his head back, moaning loudly as Rhys began to mouth at his heavy balls. Rhys sucked and kissed and licked all over them, enjoying the velvet-like texture and the heady, musky smell. More precum dripped down Jack’s shaft, some landing in Rhys’s hair, but the nymph cared little about that. This was already shaping up to be better than he’d dreamed, and the satyr hadn’t even entered him yet.

Though apparently he wouldn’t have to wait long - Jack grabbed Rhys by the shoulders and yanked him up, and before the nymph could get his bearings, he was being pushed face-down against the wooden table he’d seen earlier, held in place by the satyr’s brute strength.

Rhys again moaned, loving the rough treatment. He arched his back and raised his ass higher, wiggling it enticingly. He heard Jack groan behind him, and not moments later, that hot cock was being laid against his back, the base of it slotting between his asscheeks.

“Nymphs are pretty tough right?” asked Jack, who to Rhys’s delight, sounded a bit more strained than before. “I can just…”

Rhys felt Jack’s calloused fingers brushing against his hole, slicked up with something viscous. His precum, if Rhys were to hazard a guess. He pushed back against the fingers regardless, eager to hurry along to the main event. 

“Please, Jack, _please_ , I want it… _ooohh…”_

He cut himself off with a moan as a thick digit breached his entrance, pushing in all the way to the knuckle. Jack was not gentle in his preparation - which Rhys appreciated. One finger turned into two and then into three and even four, all the while keeping the same rapid pace. The cave’s walls echoed with the squelching sounds of Rhys’s ass being readied for the satyr’s enormous cock; a process which took more than a few minutes. In that time, Jack’s fingers brushed against the nymph’s special spot, which caused Rhys to jerk and shout, his entire body tensing as he suddenly and unexpectedly orgasmed, his cock shooting against the underside of the table.

For a few seconds, all Rhys could hear was a dull ringing, though the fog in his head soon cleared. Then he was aware of Jack’s voice, murmuring to him in low tones.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to make you cum on my cock, you sweet little bud… Spread your legs nice and wide for me, Rhysie…”

Rhys hurried to obey, his body recovering quickly, as nymphs were almost never satisfied with a single round. He spread his legs as far apart as his position would allow, his toes barely touching the den’s floor. Then he reached behind himself with both arms and grabbed a handful each of his asscheeks, pulling them apart for the satyr’s convenience. Judging by Jack’s bitten-off curse, it was a move well received. 

“Fuck me, please…” whimpered Rhys. “Ruin me with that cock…!”

He heard Jack’s dark laughter. “Be careful what you wish for, nymph.”

Then, there was a pressure at Rhys’s entrance. Jack gave him no time to anticipate, all but shoving himself inside by a good few inches, then stopping to adjust. Rhys’s mouth parted in a silent scream, his body alight with the fires of arousal. Gods above, but Jack felt even _bigger_ now, and he wasn’t even all the way inside. 

They both adjusted quickly, and Jack repeated the process a few times before he was fully sheathed in Rhys’s silky warmth. Rhys delighted in the feeling of being stuffed so full - he could feel Jack’s cock bulging in his belly, lifting him off the table somewhat. And the soft hair pressed against his ass and thighs tickled in the most delicious way.

“Gods, you’re tight,” Jack groaned, his hands settling on Rhys’s shoulders, keeping him pinned against the table. “I’m gonna fuck you now, alright, Rhysie? Gonna breed you like a fucking animal…”

Rhys mewled, rocking his ass back as best he could. “Yes, oh gods Jack, _please…!”_

The satyr pulled out slowly, letting Rhys feel every inch of his cock slide against his inner walls until he was halfway out, pausing for a moment before he quickly thrust back inside, making both Rhys and the table jerk forward - the table clattered noisily against the wall of the cave, while Rhys threw his head back and moaned near-deliriously. 

Jack kept up the pace, fucking in and out of the nymph’s little hole with a ferocity unmatched by any of Rhys’s previous partners. Jack fucked him like he needed to, like he’d die if he didn’t claim Rhys completely and utterly. The urgency of it made Rhys’s head spin, but he wasn’t about to complain. 

All the while, more precum gushed forth from the satyr’s dick, making the slide in and out slick and hot, and very, _very_ messy. Rhys could already feel globules of precum slowly drip down his legs. He only grew more excited, eager to find out what it would feel like when Jack finally came inside him.

Finally, after what felt like hours of grunting and moaning, the sounds of skin against skin and the table creaking dangerously under Rhys, Jack came with a guttural roar, slamming all the way inside the nymph and releasing his seed.

Rhys came the moment he felt his insides get flooded, his legs shaking and toes curling with how _good_ it felt. Some of Jack’s release spilled out around his cock, but most remained inside Rhys, distending his belly, much to the nymph’s immense satisfaction.

Rhys could only catch his breath for a few seconds, though, as he was once again being hoisted up by Jack, who dragged him, surprisingly, outside the cave, into the open air. It was nighttime now, not that Rhys’s noticed. Instead, he could only register Jack laying him down on his back on the grass.

Dazed, Rhys lifted his eyes to meet Jack’s, only to find the satyr smiling down at him. Jack towered over his body, tugging Rhys’s legs to wrap around his waist.

“Don’t wanna get my den all dirty,” was all he said by way of explanation, and then he was plunging his still-hard cock back inside Rhys’s pliant and willing body. 

The rest of their sessions remained outside the den - Jack fucked him on his back through three more orgasms, and the night faded into a high afternoon sun by the time he deigned to drag their bodies to the river to clean them. Rhys had made an embarrassing whine when Jack pushed down on his stomach, emptying his body of the satyr’s warm cum, and the other man had only laughed.

“Not to worry, flower,” he said, kissing Rhys’s temple, “plenty more where that came from.”

If you were to ask Rhys how much time passed after that, well… he couldn’t tell you. All he knew from that point on was the feeling of _Jack,_ all around and inside him. The satyr continued to breed him in all manner of depraved ways, and the sky flashed night and day in continuing cycles around them, both uncaring of the passage of time. 

He fucked Rhys standing up for a few rounds, allowing the nymph to grab onto his horns for leverage.

Rhys had ridden him next, planting his hands against the satyr’s pecs as he bounced his ass up and down, drinking in the greedy, lust-filled gaze Jack was giving him.

Then Rhys had sucked him - or, well, sucked him as best he could. There was no feasible way for Rhys to take all of the satyr’s length down his throat, but Jack seemed to enjoy his enthusiasm in trying anyway. Large hands pet at Rhys’s hair encouragingly, and Rhys was rewarded for his efforts with hot, gooey sprays of cum all over his face and upper body. 

Jack was intent on returning the favor - shortly after lowering Rhys back into the river for another cleaning, he lifted the nymph’s ass to his face and burrowed his tongue into his well-used hole, eating him out until Rhys had come another four times and was sobbing for Jack’s cock again. Which, of course, the satyr had obliged him.

At some point, even Rhys’s stamina began to fail him, and he’d passed out just as Jack unloaded another steady stream of cum into his ass. He’d awoken an undetermined amount of time later, back inside the cave. 

Or, to be more accurate, in Jack’s bed, lying on the soft furs with the satyr’s strong arms wrapped possessively around him.

Rhys felt bone-tired, but in a pleasant sort of way. He smiled to himself, smug that he’d accomplished the task he set out to do, and with such fantastic results. 

Idly, he wondered how many days had passed, and how badly Vaughn and Yvette were worried about him. He hoped it wasn’t too much.

The body under Rhys stirred, bringing him out of his thoughts. He looked down at Jack, who was yawning, mouth stretched wide and eyes bleary. The satyr’s gaze eventually focused enough to see Rhys looking expectantly at him.

Jack gave a roguish grin. One of his hands slid down Rhys’s naked body, palm coming to settle on the swell of Rhys’s ass. “Well, hello there. Rest well?”

“I’m sore all over,” replied the nymph, though he was smiling as well. “How much longer did you fuck me after I passed out?”

The satyr gave a shrug. “I only had a few hours left in me. Spent my last load all over your cute little face.”

“Mm. And how many days were we at it?” 

“Little more than a week, give or take.”

Rhys stretched out, enjoying the softness of Jack’s bed. So a week, then. With the time it took to find the cave, he’d been gone for almost two weeks. He could sleep for a few more hours, then get started on the journey home. For now, though… 

“Gods, that was incredible…” he sighed, laying his head back down against Jack’s chest. His fingers played idly with the coarse hair there. 

“It was,” agreed Jack. “Y’know, every other satyr I know has wanted to fuck a nymph. They chase them but never get to claim them. And _I_ get one who waltzes right up to my den and propositions _me.”_

“I was curious,” Rhys said in his defense. “And, well… everyone told me not to. So I only wanted to more.”

“Little trouble maker,” Jack snorted fondly. “I like you, Rhys.”

Rhys hummed. 

Jack paused. “Don’t you like me?”

“Not sure,” Rhys replied, hiding a grin from his bed partner. “I definitely like your cock.”

He yelped as Jack gave a hard pinch to his ass. 

“Little shit. In that case, I should tie you to a post next time, really make you beg for it.”

Rhys looked up, tilting his head at the satyr. “Next time?”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “What, you thought I was done with you?”

The nymph blinked, slowly sitting up - though that in itself was a bit of a pain, due to the aches. Still, he managed it.

“I… Jack, I have to go home.”

He rolled his eyes in response. “Duh. I’m going with you, obviously.”

“Wh-!” Rhys startled. “Why would you do that?”

Jack sat up too, scratching nonchalantly at his chest. “I mean, ideally, you’d move into the den with me. But you nymphs are weird about your little habitats. There’s probably a cave near where you live, right? If not I can just build something. Then I’ll have to move my wine and the rest of my stuff...”

As Jack rattled off his plans, seemingly unaware of Rhys, the nymph grew more flustered. 

“N-No, I mean, why are you coming _with me?!”_

Jack gave him a flat look. “I just said. I’m not done with you. It takes a lot to catch a nymph, you think I’m just gonna let you wander off?”

“You didn’t even _catch_ me!”

“Semantics,” Jack waved his hand. “You’re my mate now. We gotta stick together, Rhysie.”

A beat of shocked silence passed.

Then,

“I’M YOUR _WHAT?!”_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> in rhys's defense, he didn't know that if you successfully satisfy a satyr through an entire sex marathon, they can rightfully claim you their mate. it happens pretty rarely.
> 
> oh well, guess he's got a satyr bf now


End file.
